#crisis clubhouse

[crusade-crisis]

((Do you know?))

[probablyasocialecologist]

One man’s drudgery was another man’s stability. With some justification, Erich Honecker looked with pride at the changes in living standards that had been achieved under his leadership. Despite continuous problems with supplies and being behind technological standards in the West, the GDR felt like a stable country with comparatively high living standards. By design, there was full employment and the subsidized rents, food, cultural offerings and childcare meant that there were few existential concerns. At a time when West Germany was grappling with around 8 per cent unemployment and job security was a worry to many of those who did have work, East German families never really had to fear a sudden loss of income or not being able to pay the rent. By 1987, over half of all households had a car and all had at least one washing machine, fridge and TV. Products that were difficult to get hold of through regular routes were often obtained with the help of Western relatives who ordered them directly through Genex catalogues or provided the currency for a trip to the Intershop. Friends and family in the right places could also help. All in all, the economic shortcomings of the GDR in the mid-1980s, while reaching crisis level behind the scenes, appeared to many East Germans as nuisances rather than existential threats to their way of life. This lack of existential concerns coupled with a solid life–work balance meant that East Germans had a fair amount of money and time on their hands without having to worry too much about having to make the most of it. As a result, they spent a lot more time socializing and enjoying leisure pursuits. Clubhouses, allotment gardens, restaurants, communal barbecue pits and party rooms in apartment blocks were popular retreats where friends, colleagues and neighbours would meet to relax. Accordingly, alcohol consumption in the GDR skyrocketed. By 1988, the average East German drank 142 litres of beer a year and 16.1 litres of hard liquor, twice as much as their West German neighbours and enough to make VEB Nordbrand the largest Schnapps producer in Europe. The American academic Thomas Kochan has argued that this is not due to a need to escape the dreary realities of the GDR, as has often been claimed, but rather to the ‘existential carefreeness’ experienced by ‘a low-competition collective society’. Most East Germans drank not to forget their worries but rather because they had too little to worry about.

Katja Hoyer, Beyond the Wall: East Germany, 1949-1990

[princess-glassred]

Idk how this would happen but Imagine if somehow when the losers were kids, Richie gets into some kind of Big esque reverse 13 going on 30 scenario and just wakes up one day in his adult 40 year old body while it's still 1989. You expect him to freak out and have a crisis but no, richie lowkey likes being old cause he has an excuse not to go to school.

He smacks his head on the clubhouse ceiling and can barely fit in the stupid hammock anymore because of his long ass legs. All his friends try to razz on him for having body hair now but richie is like "i know! Its awesome! Im like a sasquatch!". Even though the body is only 40 Richie is still just a kid so hes acting like hes elderly, he even asks Bev if she thinks he can get senior discounts in this body. All of the losers have to beg him to please stop wearing shorts and put on some fuckin jeans. Richie tries getting beer now that he's but its so awkward "i'd like to get some beer." "Uh ok, what brand?" "...beer." "is this your first day being alive or something?".

Because he's a whole ass adult he can scare Henry with how tall and strong he is, so one day when they're in public bathroom he just comes out of the stall and scares the absolute crap outta him. In order to stop people from asking why a 40 year old is hanging out with a bunch of preteens so he says "They're my kids. All of them. I fucked all their moms.". For a while richie was just walking around in his kid clothes even though they didn't fit him at all and looked ridiculous on him, until Bill stole some of his dads clothes and gave them to him. Sometimes adult men will hit on Richie and he literally doesn't know how to respond, especially cause no women hit on him at all. Belch huggins dad gives him his phone number and he doesn't know how to feel about that. Eddie comes out of this entire richie situation with his taste in men totally changed forever.

Don't worry though, the whole thing wears off eventually 😉

[bullet-prooflove]

Love Letter: Juan 'Juice' Ortiz x Reader

Tagging: @stydiaswish @goosterroose @darqchilddaydreamz @librarian1002 @redpool @kmc1989 @trublu2u @fleureeee @yezzyyae @jeybae @@hatersaremymotivators @ravennaortiz @courtney-elizabeth93

References to:

Safe - Chibs patches you up after a bad night.

Gunpowder & Lead - Chibs searches for you in the aftermath of Safe.

Home - Chibs decides to take you home. - Companion piece to Safe and Gunpowder & Lead

By the time your letter arrives in the mail Juice has already gone completely off the rails. He spends his nights partying, drinking himself into oblivion and taking a concoction of drugs that even Tig wouldn’t have touched during his wild years.

When he’s not at the clubhouse getting fucked, he’s doing his own fucking back at Diosa. He’s slept with countless women over the past couple of months and none of them get the memory of you out of his head.

It's not your absence that kills him, although that’s part of it. It’s the guilt. He’s the one that put you back on your husband’s radar, the one that insisted you submit that painting into the competition, the one who’d encouraged you to have your picture taken with it.

He recognises your handwriting as soon as he finds the envelop in his mailbox. His thumb chases over the cursive loops before he tucks it underneathe the stack of motorcycle magazines on the coffee table. He knows it’s just a rehash of the phone conversation you had. He can’t stand to go through it again, but he also can’t bring himself to throw it away.

It’s Chibs that finds the letter.

He knows what a man in crisis looks like and he can see that Juice is starting to circle the drain. How it happens doesn’t matter, OD, bar fight, liver failure, the point is it’s doing to happen, and Chibs can’t stand the thought of it.

When he drags Juice home from the clubhouse that night and puts him to bed, he surveys the mess with a sigh. There’s empty beer bottles and take away containers all over the place. A dozen of empty mugs he’s been using as ashtrays. The kid Chibs knows is practically OCD to the point of making sure the tins in his cupboard face the right way, the mess is a sure sign that Juice is struggling.

It's when he starts cleaning up that he comes across the envelop. He tears it open because at this point, he’s looking for some insight because Juice hasn’t been forthcoming. He knows you’ve left but as to the circumstances, the younger man refuses to talk about it.

It’s as he reads the letter than he understands what happened. It’s an echo of his own past, of the night Evelyn turned up at his door with bruises on her face because her divorce had gone through, and her ex had turned up at the house that night.

The difference between you and Evelyn…

She knew she couldn’t outrun that monster, so she’d taken matters into her own hands. She’d been prepared to go to prison for it until he’d stepped in.

You…

You didn’t have it in you. Evelyn was tempered steel underneathe all that silk and litigation. You’re all heart, soft and artistic, the perfect partner for someone like Juice. Chibs sighs before he lays out the letter on the coffee table. Juice needs to read this, he needs to know that it isn’t his fault, that you don’t blame him for what happened because that’s what’s fuelling his self-destructiveness, the guilt of it all.

When the younger man wakes up the next morning, he doesn’t expect to find Chib’s in his kitchen. His head is pounding and there’s that agony in his chest, the one he wakes up with every single morning.

“Sit.” Chibs says, pushing a fresh mug of coffee towards Juice.

Even in his most rebellious moments, he still respects his president. He does as he’s told, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug before bowing his head and staring into the dark liquid.

“You need to read this.” Chibs says, setting the letter down in front of the younger man. He sees Juice’s gaze flicker up to study the writing before his lips purse together grimly.

“No.” He says shaking his head, shoving the letter away from him.

“Lad…” Chibs says firmly before using his fingertips to slide the letter back. “Read it.”

It takes Juice almost five minutes to get through it, because he finds himself re-reading parts of it over and over again, trying to absorb the words, to believe them.

It’s not your fault.

I still love you.

I’ll always love you.

It’s like a dam breaks inside of him and all of that emotion he’s been repressing, it comes rushing to the surface like a flood. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that leak down his cheeks but not before one falls onto the letter, staining the ink that’s embedded in the paper.

“I thought it was my fault.” He finds himself saying as he sets the letter back down on the table.

“No.” Chibs says, meeting Juice’s gaze. He’s been there himself; he knows the toll that something like this takes on your soul, how it can ravage you, eat you from the inside out.  “None of this is your fault.”

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[eretzyisrael]

by Jane Prinsley

A Jewish charity event to help disaffected young boys has been mobbed by anti-Israel protestors after the address was leaked by a provocative social media activist.

Disturbing footage shows a number of masked men abusing Jewish passers-by in Hendon while being blocked by police.

Dilly Hussain, the editor of Muslim blog, 5 Pillars, shared information about the event on social media, including the charity’s address and charity number. Hussain appeared to call on his followers to attend the event, claiming that Simon: “Posted a video of himself rummaging through a Palestinian woman’s nightwear after her house was evacuated in Gaza.”

Hussain provoked criticism late last year after interviewing former BNP leader Nick Griffin about the war in Gaza. 

The event was also mentioned on the hard-left website Novara Media.

The Boys Clubhouse is a Jewish charity that provides a safe environment for disadvantaged teenage boys in crisis. 

The charity’s founder and Chief Executive, Ari Leaman MBE, told the JC that Levi Simon had been invited “to inspire the boys to do well in life, it had nothing to do with the army.” Simon was due to speak to four disaffected boys who had been excluded from school, “it was a talk about overcoming adversity and not doing drugs.”

Simon posted about the event on his Facebook, a screenshot of which was widely shared on anti-Israel social media groups. Leaman said it “somehow went out to almost every Palestinian group that there is an IDF guy hosting a charity event.”

The lunchtime talk went ahead at a different address. Leaman said that the boys “know this is part of being Jewish in England today.”

A passerby told the JC, “A lot of guys with balaclavas started targeting the office.” According to the witness, the gang was trying to break into The Boys Clubhouse office. The CST and police had to guard both the front and back entrances to stop the men getting into the building.

The witness said, “it is terrifying. Really awful.”

The braying mob were filmed shouting “you’re a baby killer” to the Jewish men standing on Hendon Way. They called the men “Israeli scum.”

As the incident unfolded, a witness told the JC, “they are harassing the surrounding offices. No one can work because of their loudspeakers.”The Boys Clubhouse does not have identification on their building for security reasons. There is nothing on the office to suggests it is a Jewish charity, but the address was widely shared on anti-Israel channels.

The witness told the JC that he had not seen any arrests.

The JC has approached Dilly Hussain and the Metropolitan police for comment.

[salemqz]

Pt.1

Amelia Basics/Home Island

Amelia is one of the first people newer player get to meet when they first sign in. She has been the (optional) tutorial guide since 2016 with the introduction of Monkey Wrench Island and continued to be one with the replacement of Snagglemast Island in 2019, which is no longer the tutorial as of 2024. It is "replaced" with a very short "tutorial" which gives the players the new club house.

Amelia lives (and owns) home island even having her own statue in the center.

She also runs the shop/store; selling outfits, items, pets, and decorations for the club house that the player owns. She lives in said shop with her own clubhouse being the second floor.

Amelia has some references to islands from as far back as Nabooti and as recent as Fairy Tale Island. A good few are visual but others are...teas. (Not joking, being genuine.) I'm also pretty sure that a few of the sprites come from Poptropica Worlds (rip) but that's getting off topic.

When interacting with/looking through the room (working left to right, bottom to top) we learn:

She owns home island (and has so for a while.) Amelia is rich from adventuring so much, but is not in retirement, this is merely a job she's wanted to do for a while and is now able to take time off.

The golden apple is from Mythology meaning she took it from the tree of the gods with no consequences? And didn't take a bite so... nothing magical yet?

There are several teas on this selves and they all come from different islands. In order: Fairy Tale Island, Wild West Island, Mythology Island, Nabooti Island, and one mini game; Legendary Swords.

The tea pot is one of the matching ones from Arabian Nights. No clue how she got it...maybe there was three and she just so happened to take one?

She has a trophy that she won in a big race. I'm going to assume this is a nod to Monkey Wrench Island or a similar race. Wiki says it's after Monkey Wrench so, okay?

There's a photo of her winning it right next to the trophy. The Red Baroness is in the background and is not happy. She has wrench so possibly before but the shoulder pads say otherwise.

She, at some point, got her face commissioned by the artist in Escape Pelican Rock Island and/or was in prison. I would say she went to prison but her head would need to be colored for that, but she did smuggle tea out of there...sooo 50/50

She is friends with the famous adventure Xavier Pendragon (which little is known about) but according to wiki she used to be his pilot before she, herself, followed in his footsteps and became an adventurer.

Above the entrance to her room is the head of Dragotank from Astral Knights Island, he was a mini boss/distraction on the fire planet.

Now her room...is packed with unicorns and rainbows (🏳️‍🌈?👀.) It is something she is a bit embarrassed about but indulges herself in it. We can't access this room right away, we have to do her mini quest to do so. Our character even comments, "This is all very....extra."

There is a golden trophy on her shelf of a weird slug/bug, well it's official name/species is Chthonians. It is a reference to Poptropica Worlds, specifically Crisis Caverns Island. This is the trophy you earn when completing it, meaning she's gone there and won the island. However our character doesn't seem to know what this is.

There are two shirts hanging on her windowsill, one is a plain red and the other has the same design as the hoodie in game titled, "Rainbow Ride." All I am saying the implications are there.

In the photo pinned on the corkboard, we see Amelia taking a photo of baking session. In the background is two girls ; one is wearing glasses and using her magic to torment the other girl who is being attacked by flying gobs peanut butter. (Despite my search, i couldn't find an identity for either of these girls. There was a hypothesis that since Rumpelstiltskin and her have the same color magic, personally, I don't believe this theory. There's another one about the person being attacked with peanut butter is speculated to be the Red Baroness, but I doubt it.)

Now getting to the top section, Amelia's kitchen is kind of a wreck. She has dishes stacked up in the sink, tea kettle on the stove, books on the fridge(?), and a trash can that looks like it would overflow. Our character comments, "Amelia's kind of a slob..." Props to her for the fire extinguisher though.

She has a conveyer belt in her house, that runs boxes across the screen. It is told by our character that it is shipments, no one knows where they come or go from. They kinda just exist.

So I thought this was a reference to Counterfeit Island but looking at it closer it seems to be Amelia looking at a container with magical lipstick. It poofs purple when you touch it. The wiki stated it was Rumpelstiltskin's lipstick, I don't remember him having it, but pop off king.

I think this ties back into 16. Its a diaphragm of Rumpelstiltskin and it seems like she's trying to figure out something about him. The wiki doesn't mention anything other than Amelia is wary of magical creatures.

This was a fun dive, definitely learned a lot more than I imagined I would.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

If you had to capture Silicon Valley’s dominant ideology in a single anecdote, you might look first to Mark Zuckerberg, sitting in the blue glow of his computer some 20 years ago, chatting with a friend about how his new website, TheFacebook, had given him access to reams of personal information about his fellow students:

Zuckerberg: Yeah so if you ever need info about anyone at Harvard Zuckerberg: Just ask. Zuckerberg: I have over 4,000 emails, pictures, addresses, SNS Friend: What? How’d you manage that one? Zuckerberg: People just submitted it. Zuckerberg: I don’t know why. Zuckerberg: They “trust me” Zuckerberg: Dumb fucks.

That conversation—later revealed through leaked chat records—was soon followed by another that was just as telling, if better mannered. At a now-famous Christmas party in 2007, Zuckerberg first met Sheryl Sandberg, his eventual chief operating officer, who with Zuckerberg would transform the platform into a digital imperialist superpower. There, Zuckerberg, who in Facebook’s early days had adopted the mantra “Company over country,” explained to Sandberg that he wanted every American with an internet connection to have a Facebook account. For Sandberg, who once told a colleague that she’d been “put on this planet to scale organizations,” that turned out to be the perfect mission.

Facebook (now Meta) has become an avatar of all that is wrong with Silicon Valley. Its self-interested role in spreading global disinformation is an ongoing crisis. Recall, too, the company’s secret mood-manipulation experiment in 2012, which deliberately tinkered with what users saw in their News Feed in order to measure how Facebook could influence people’s emotional states without their knowledge. Or its participation in inciting genocide in Myanmar in 2017. Or its use as a clubhouse for planning and executing the January 6, 2021, insurrection. (In Facebook’s early days, Zuckerberg listed “revolutions” among his interests. This was around the time that he had a business card printed with I’M CEO, BITCH.)

And yet, to a remarkable degree, Facebook’s way of doing business remains the norm for the tech industry as a whole, even as other social platforms (TikTok) and technological developments (artificial intelligence) eclipse Facebook in cultural relevance.

To worship at the altar of mega-scale and to convince yourself that you should be the one making world-historic decisions on behalf of a global citizenry that did not elect you and may not share your values or lack thereof, you have to dispense with numerous inconveniences—humility and nuance among them. Many titans of Silicon Valley have made these trade-offs repeatedly. YouTube (owned by Google), Instagram (owned by Meta), and Twitter (which Elon Musk insists on calling X) have been as damaging to individual rights, civil society, and global democracy as Facebook was and is. Considering the way that generative AI is now being developed throughout Silicon Valley, we should brace for that damage to be multiplied many times over in the years ahead.

The behavior of these companies and the people who run them is often hypocritical, greedy, and status-obsessed. But underlying these venalities is something more dangerous, a clear and coherent ideology that is seldom called out for what it is: authoritarian technocracy. As the most powerful companies in Silicon Valley have matured, this ideology has only grown stronger, more self-righteous, more delusional, and—in the face of rising criticism—more aggrieved.

The new technocrats are ostentatious in their use of language that appeals to Enlightenment values—reason, progress, freedom—but in fact they are leading an antidemocratic, illiberal movement. Many of them profess unconditional support for free speech, but are vindictive toward those who say things that do not flatter them. They tend to hold eccentric beliefs: that technological progress of any kind is unreservedly and inherently good; that you should always build it, simply because you can; that frictionless information flow is the highest value regardless of the information’s quality; that privacy is an archaic concept; that we should welcome the day when machine intelligence surpasses our own. And above all, that their power should be unconstrained. The systems they’ve built or are building—to rewire communications, remake human social networks, insinuate artificial intelligence into daily life, and more—impose these beliefs on the population, which is neither consulted nor, usually, meaningfully informed. All this, and they still attempt to perpetuate the absurd myth that they are the swashbuckling underdogs.

Comparisons between Silicon Valley and Wall Street or Washington, D.C., are commonplace, and you can see why—all are power centers, and all are magnets for people whose ambition too often outstrips their humanity. But Silicon Valley’s influence easily exceeds that of Wall Street and Washington. It is reengineering society more profoundly than any other power center in any other era since perhaps the days of the New Deal. Many Americans fret—rightfully—about the rising authoritarianism among MAGA Republicans, but they risk ignoring another ascendant force for illiberalism: the tantrum-prone and immensely powerful kings of tech.

The Shakespearean drama that unfolded late last year at OpenAI underscores the extent to which the worst of Facebook’s “move fast and break things” mentality has been internalized and celebrated in Silicon Valley. OpenAI was founded, in 2015, as a nonprofit dedicated to bringing artificial general intelligence into the world in a way that would serve the public good. Underlying its formation was the belief that the technology was too powerful and too dangerous to be developed with commercial motives alone.

But in 2019, as the technology began to startle even the people who were working on it with the speed at which it was advancing, the company added a for-profit arm to raise more capital. Microsoft invested $1 billion at first, then many billions of dollars more. Then, this past fall, the company’s CEO, Sam Altman, was fired then quickly rehired, in a whiplash spectacle that signaled a demolition of OpenAI’s previously established safeguards against putting company over country. Those who wanted Altman out reportedly believed that he was too heavily prioritizing the pace of development over safety. But Microsoft’s response—an offer to bring on Altman and anyone else from OpenAI to re-create his team there—started a game of chicken that led to Altman’s reinstatement. The whole incident was messy, and Altman may well be the right person for the job, but the message was clear: The pursuit of scale and profit won decisively over safety concerns and public accountability.

Silicon Valley still attracts many immensely talented people who strive to do good, and who are working to realize the best possible version of a more connected, data-rich global society. Even the most deleterious companies have built some wonderful tools. But these tools, at scale, are also systems of manipulation and control. They promise community but sow division; claim to champion truth but spread lies; wrap themselves in concepts such as empowerment and liberty but surveil us relentlessly. The values that win out tend to be the ones that rob us of agency and keep us addicted to our feeds.

The theoretical promise of AI is as hopeful as the promise of social media once was, and as dazzling as its most partisan architects project. AI really could cure numerous diseases. It really could transform scholarship and unearth lost knowledge. Except that Silicon Valley, under the sway of its worst technocratic impulses, is following the playbook established in the mass scaling and monopolization of the social web. OpenAI, Microsoft, Google, and other corporations leading the way in AI development are not focusing on the areas of greatest public or epistemological need, and they are certainly not operating with any degree of transparency or caution. Instead they are engaged in a race to build faster and maximize profit.

None of this happens without the underlying technocratic philosophy of inevitability—that is, the idea that if you can build something new, you must. “In a properly functioning world, I think this should be a project of governments,” Altman told my colleague Ross Andersen last year, referring to OpenAI’s attempts to develop artificial general intelligence. But Altman was going to keep building it himself anyway. Or, as Zuckerberg put it to The New Yorker many years ago: “Isn’t it, like, inevitable that there would be a huge social network of people? … If we didn’t do this someone else would have done it.”

Technocracy first blossomed as a political ideology after World War I, among a small group of scientists and engineers in New York City who wanted a new social structure to replace representative democracy, putting the technological elite in charge. Though their movement floundered politically—people ended up liking President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal better—it had more success intellectually, entering the zeitgeist alongside modernism in art and literature, which shared some of its values. The American poet Ezra Pound’s modernist slogan “Make it new” easily could have doubled as a mantra for the technocrats. A parallel movement was that of the Italian futurists, led by figures such as the poet F. T. Marinetti, who used maxims like “March, don’t molder” and “Creation, not contemplation.”

The ethos for technocrats and futurists alike was action for its own sake. “We are not satisfied to roam in a garden closed in by dark cypresses, bending over ruins and mossy antiques,” Marinetti said in a 1929 speech. “We believe that Italy’s only worthy tradition is never to have had a tradition.” Prominent futurists took their zeal for technology, action, and speed and eventually transformed it into fascism. Marinetti followed his Manifesto of Futurism (1909) with his Fascist Manifesto (1919). His friend Pound was infatuated with Benito Mussolini and collaborated with his regime to host a radio show in which the poet promoted fascism, gushed over Mein Kampf, and praised both Mussolini and Adolf Hitler. The evolution of futurism into fascism wasn’t inevitable—many of Pound’s friends grew to fear him, or thought he had lost his mind—but it does show how, during a time of social unrest, a cultural movement based on the radical rejection of tradition and history, and tinged with aggrievement, can become a political ideology.

In October, the venture capitalist and technocrat Marc Andreessen published on his firm’s website a stream-of-consciousness document he called “The Techno-Optimist Manifesto,” a 5,000-word ideological cocktail that eerily recalls, and specifically credits, Italian futurists such as Marinetti. Andreessen is, in addition to being one of Silicon Valley’s most influential billionaire investors, notorious for being thin-skinned and obstreperous, and despite the invocation of optimism in the title, the essay seems driven in part by his sense of resentment that the technologies he and his predecessors have advanced are no longer “properly glorified.” It is a revealing document, representative of the worldview that he and his fellow technocrats are advancing.

Andreessen writes that there is “no material problem,” including those caused by technology, that “cannot be solved with more technology.” He writes that technology should not merely be always advancing, but always accelerating in its advancement “to ensure the techno-capital upward spiral continues forever.” And he excoriates what he calls campaigns against technology, under names such as “tech ethics” and “existential risk.”

Or take what might be considered the Apostles’ Creed of his emerging political movement:

We believe we should place intelligence and energy in a positive feedback loop, and drive them both to infinity … We believe in adventure. Undertaking the Hero’s Journey, rebelling against the status quo, mapping uncharted territory, conquering dragons, and bringing home the spoils for our community … We believe in nature, but we also believe in overcoming nature. We are not primitives, cowering in fear of the lightning bolt. We are the apex predator; the lightning works for us.

Andreessen identifies several “patron saints” of his movement, Marinetti among them. He quotes from the Manifesto of Futurism, swapping out Marinetti’s “poetry” for “technology”:

Beauty exists only in struggle. There is no masterpiece that has not an aggressive character. Technology must be a violent assault on the forces of the unknown, to force them to bow before man.

To be clear, the Andreessen manifesto is not a fascist document, but it is an extremist one. He takes a reasonable position—that technology, on the whole, has dramatically improved human life—and warps it to reach the absurd conclusion that any attempt to restrain technological development under any circumstances is despicable. This position, if viewed uncynically, makes sense only as a religious conviction, and in practice it serves only to absolve him and the other Silicon Valley giants of any moral or civic duty to do anything but make new things that will enrich them, without consideration of the social costs, or of history. Andreessen also identifies a list of enemies and “zombie ideas” that he calls upon his followers to defeat, among them “institutions” and “tradition.”

“Our enemy,” Andreessen writes, is “the know-it-all credentialed expert worldview, indulging in abstract theories, luxury beliefs, social engineering, disconnected from the real world, delusional, unelected, and unaccountable—playing God with everyone else’s lives, with total insulation from the consequences.”

The irony is that this description very closely fits Andreessen and other Silicon Valley elites. The world that they have brought into being over the past two decades is unquestionably a world of reckless social engineering, without consequence for its architects, who foist their own abstract theories and luxury beliefs on all of us.

Some of the individual principles Andreessen advances in his manifesto are anodyne. But its overarching radicalism, given his standing and power, should make you sit up straight. Key figures in Silicon Valley, including Musk, have clearly warmed to illiberal ideas in recent years. In 2020, Donald Trump’s vote share in Silicon Valley was 23 percent—small, but higher than the 20 percent he received in 2016.

The main dangers of authoritarian technocracy are not at this point political, at least not in the traditional sense. Still, a select few already have authoritarian control, more or less, to establish the digital world’s rules and cultural norms, which can be as potent as political power.

In 1961, in his farewell address, President Dwight Eisenhower warned the nation about the dangers of a coming technocracy. “In holding scientific research and discovery in respect, as we should,” he said, “we must also be alert to the equal and opposite danger that public policy could itself become the captive of a scientific-technological elite. It is the task of statesmanship to mold, to balance, and to integrate these and other forces, new and old, within the principles of our democratic system—ever aiming toward the supreme goals of our free society.”

Eight years later, the country’s first computers were connected to ARPANET, a precursor to the World Wide Web, which became broadly available in 1993. Back then, Silicon Valley was regarded as a utopia for ambitious capitalists and optimistic inventors with original ideas who wanted to change the world, unencumbered by bureaucracy or tradition, working at the speed of the internet (14.4 kilobits per second in those days). This culture had its flaws even at the start, but it was also imaginative in a distinctly American way, and it led to the creation of transformative, sometimes even dumbfoundingly beautiful hardware and software.

For a long time, I tended to be more on Andreessen’s end of the spectrum regarding tech regulation. I believed that the social web could still be a net good and that, given enough time, the values that best served the public interest would naturally win out. I resisted the notion that regulating the social web was necessary at all, in part because I was not (and am still not) convinced that the government can do so without itself causing harm (the European model of regulation, including laws such as the so-called right to be forgotten, is deeply inconsistent with free-press protections in America, and poses dangers to the public’s right to know). I’d much prefer to see market competition as a force for technological improvement and the betterment of society.

But in recent years, it has become clear that regulation is needed, not least because the rise of technocracy proves that Silicon Valley’s leaders simply will not act in the public’s best interest. Much should be done to protect children from the hazards of social media, and to break up monopolies and oligopolies that damage society, and more. At the same time, I believe that regulation alone will not be enough to meaningfully address the cultural rot that the new technocrats are spreading.

Universities should reclaim their proper standing as leaders in developing world-changing technologies for the good of humankind. (Harvard, Stanford, and MIT could invest in creating a consortium for such an effort—their endowments are worth roughly $110 billion combined.)

Individuals will have to lead the way, too. You may not be able to entirely give up social media, or reject your workplace’s surveillance software—you may not even want to opt out of these things. But there is extraordinary power in defining ideals, and we can all begin to do that—for ourselves; for our networks of actual, real-life friends; for our schools; for our places of worship. We would be wise to develop more sophisticated shared norms for debating and deciding how we use invasive technology interpersonally and within our communities. That should include challenging existing norms about the use of apps and YouTube in classrooms, the ubiquity of smartphones in adolescent hands, and widespread disregard for individual privacy. People who believe that we all deserve better will need to step up to lead such efforts.

Our children are not data sets waiting to be quantified, tracked, and sold. Our intellectual output is not a mere training manual for the AI that will be used to mimic and plagiarize us. Our lives are meant not to be optimized through a screen, but to be lived—in all of our messy, tree-climbing, night-swimming, adventuresome glory. We are all better versions of ourselves when we are not tweeting or clicking “Like” or scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.

Technocrats are right that technology is a key to making the world better. But first we must describe the world as we wish it to be—the problems we wish to solve in the public interest, and in accordance with the values and rights that advance human dignity, equality, freedom, privacy, health, and happiness. And we must insist that the leaders of institutions that represent us—large and small—use technology in ways that reflect what is good for individuals and society, and not just what enriches technocrats.

We do not have to live in the world the new technocrats are designing for us. We do not have to acquiesce to their growing project of dehumanization and data mining. Each of us has agency.

No more “build it because we can.” No more algorithmic feedbags. No more infrastructure designed to make the people less powerful and the powerful more controlling. Every day we vote with our attention; it is precious, and desperately wanted by those who will use it against us for their own profit and political goals. Don’t let them.

[trans-axolotl]

hey i love your posts on anti-psych organizing, the work you're doing is really inspiring <333 i was jw if you have any advice for people who want to contribute to the movement but have certain accessibility challenges? for example in my case i have very high social anxiety which makes public speaking hard and i also have difficulty processing denser criticism/theory in written form due to cognitive symptoms, etc. and it makes me feel like i don't have much to offer to help but i would love to get more involved if possible!! tysm in advance if you answer this happy pride btw <3

Happy pride anon! Thanks so much for this question, I think it's really important!

There are so many ways to contribute to antipsych/mad liberation movement, and it's so important that our spaces are accessible! When we're fighting for our rights as mad and disabled people, we deserve to have our access needs respected, and to be able to show up in whatever ways work for us. I talk a lot about writing and theory on here just because Tumblr is a place I go to write, but theory is not something that feels always relevant or important in many spaces. Community and accessibility always comes first!

Whatever you have to offer to the movement is enough and valued. I'll list off some ideas I have, but honestly, whatever you feel passionate about and your own ideas are likely to be better than what I can list off.

Creating art! whether writing, drawing, mixed media, anything, creating art and sharing it with others really can be an important way to honor our experiences and share them with others.

Finding out where a psych ward near you is, and writing cards, sending in care packages with things like books, puzzles, fidget toys, things like that. Happy to write out some more tips for that if people are interested.

Graffiti! even if you're just using a sharpie to write alternative crisis line numbers that don't call the cops on posters for the 988 hotline, putting up psych abolition stickers near hospitals, things like that.

Going to protests. There aren't a lot of specific mad pride/antipsych protests, but depending on your area, there might be some stuff happening in July for mad pride! I know there's an event happening in Vermont on July 15th.

Creating reading groups. I think theory is not more important than lived experience and isn't necessary to read super dense academic stuff, but I know for some people it can be a really powerful experience to read stuff that validates your experiences and offers new ways of understanding. Creating a book club where you can read stuff with other people, talk about it together, discuss questions and confusions you have together, can be a way to make it more accessible then trying to navigate it on your own. And it absolutely doesn't have to be theory that you read, it could be memoirs, fiction, nonfiction, anything that interests you!

Finding out what is already going on in your location. Even if there isn't specific antipsych groups, a lot of cities will have mental health support groups, mental health clubhouses, peer support, etc. Sometimes there will already be projects going that you can figure out ways to get involved.

Writing reviews of hospitals/psychiatrists/treatment providers to better give people in your community an idea of what to expect.

Community building. I think that a lot of times, we can feel really isolated and that the psych system can make it hard for us to be connected to each other and learn the skills to support each other. Joining groups like the Hearing Voices Network, other peer support groups, local support groups, clubhouses, etc, can be a really important step just to build relationships and get involved without necessarily having to create specific projects.

Learning what resources are near you and building up a resource library so that you can share things like coping skills, peer respite, local orgs with other people in your community!

Understanding the laws around psych hospitalization, mental health, medications, etc. If new laws are proposed, giving feedback, emailing hospitals about policies, things like that.

Self care and rest. So often we are in crisis, constantly going, feeling the pressure to be involved. Resting can be part of resistance! Taking the time to care for ourselves, our community, embracing joy, play, recreation, is so important. Our survival can be resistance in a system that doesn't want us free.

These are just some ideas, and are not a complete list. I really believe that everyone's contributions are worthy and valuable, and that whatever people have to offer is worth celebrating. Our movements should be accessible and considerate of all of our different needs, and figure out ways to empower each of us to participate, and to get rid of barriers together. My way of engaging with antipsych stuff is absolutely not the only or best way, and I always love to hear from other people about their approaches!

TL;DR: Theory and public speaking are not the only ways to particpate, and accessibility is important! Whatever things you are passionate about are good places to start brainstorming. There are multiple options of things like art, sending care packages, and getting involved in local community.

Followers, please feel free to add on your own ideas or ways you participate! Would love to hear all the amazing ways we're all engaging with this movement.

[running-swimming-living]

I took a break from tumblr but I’m back now. My life has had its ups and downs and I felt I needed more support in my day to day life. This place has always been a great place to post struggles, successes and feel lifted up from the positive interactions I have with my mutuals and followers. So I’m back!

My close friend is having a crisis. I’ve only known him for a year or so. But I still care and worry for him. He is isolating and I want to show my care and concern without bombarding him with too much attention especially if he wants to be alone. It’s a fine line. I miss him though ☹️

I went out with another friend and we got manicures for the first time. I enjoyed it and like seeing my nails look so clean and well taken care of. But the price was a bit too much so I will probably not go back or wait a long time between visits.

My tutoring company is coming together. The kids I work with are all really great. I am a little rusty and need to study to stay caught up. I think I am professional and well articulated. My prices r good. I’m hoping to study up and establish myself and then get a regular morning shift job with tutoring in the evenings in the next tax year.

My schizoaffective disorder is managed. I feel like mentioning it bc it gives perspective into my situation and struggles.

Halloween is coming up. I am going as an Amazon delivery driver. I am going to carry around a box of candy and hand it out. Heading to a party the day of. I wanted to do pumpkin carving but my mental health clubhouse schedule and my tutoring schedule overlapped. So I’m missing out ☹️ they’re having a murder mystery night and I can’t go.

My friends have also been supporting me in weight loss. My friend I got my manicure with has been great source of camaraderie. We both want to lose weight so it’s refreshing to have those conversations with her. My other friend wants to go to the gym with me. He runs like 10 miles at a time 😅but yea. Well lift and it’ll be good for me. He can push me.

My therapist says I’m thriving and I’m starting to see it. I’ve been watching virgin river on Netflix per her request and it’s fun. It’s been helping my social anxiety a lot. I be taking notes lol.

That’s all. A short fall run. I love fall ❤️🍁🍂

[hannahwatcheshorror]

28 DAYS LATER (2002)

💁‍♀️💁‍♀️Strong Female Lead(s)

While over 20 years old now, the effects hold up very well as does the story. I would like to find flaws and say that people wouldn’t be so stupid as to spread the virus in the first place, or that people would never be so cruel to one another in hard times, but after having gone through a pandemic… This movie does an excellent job showing what happens during a public health crisis. I’ve only just seen the film but I know it's worth watching again for details I missed the first time.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The filmmakers had no idea about COVID-19 when they made this movie in 2002 but I can’t help but compare the two events and shudder. The Rage sickness did NOT have to be spread. The science man told them pretty explicitly that if they set the chimps loose, everyone will start dying immediately, and what happened? Exactly. It only took 28 days for Rage to ravage London and for poor lil' Cillian Murphy to wake up all alone in the buff (though I appreciate some male nudity with these mostly female nudity heavy movies, thanks Cill). He finds his world very empty save for some very wild folk who really want a bite out of him (but I mean, who doesn’t). He teams up with a guy and a girl but lights a candle so he can be alone with the girl. Then he and Selena (the girl) find a Daddy-Daughter duo and the daughter’s name is Hannah so she has some big shoes to fill (but I digress). 

They pick up an emergency broadcast telling them to go to a promised land and Hannah is the deciding vote (get it, girl). They go through a tunnel and Papa Frank guns it which is scary and fun but it pops a tire. Hannah to the rescue! Everyone lifts the car while reminding Hannah to hurry (she knows) as she puts on a spare. This was very stressful because I really want Hannah to survive this movie (figures). Next, Hakuna Matata because they go apocalypse grocery shopping (and Daddy Frank is pleased to see the Granny Smiths are going strong because of radiation). Picnicking and having a campout somewhere green and with wild horses, you almost forget about the terrifying, red-eyed, infected. Almost.

They make it to the promised land but there is no one there so Father Frank kicks something out of frustration and gets a drop of virus blood in his eye and THEN the army fuckers pop up out of nowhere to kill him. I am ANGRY and sad for Hannah (and Cillian who mistook Frank for his father earlier). All those left are trucked back to the army headquarters. Things start to feel a little off, and then the head honcho tells dear Mr. Murphy that he promised his hard working soldiers women. Yeah, it’s only been a month but they were all ready to off themselves over the idea of not getting laid again, but being able to take advantage of a woman? Now that sounds like a fine idea to these freaks! Obviously, Cillian, Selena, and Hannah are NOT on board for this but they are outnumbered and so the non-dominant male is exiled.

Cillian doesn’t take well to this so becomes a super stealthy boy suddenly even though in his life before all this he was a delivery driver. He lures Best Boy out into the woods and then doubles back to the clubhouse to rescue Selena and Hannah, taking out one of the baddies on the way. At this point the girls are very scared which is fair because they’ve been made to change into different clothing in front of the men (bright red dresses specifically). Selena gives Hannah some drugs so she won’t have to endure the full effects of the evening but this sort of backfires when the young lady isn’t taking the zombie in their midst very seriously! By the time Cillian comes in and takes care of the guy grabbing up on his woman, Selena thinks he might have The Rage (TM), but he still has his big, old, baby blues. Blonde bitch boy tries to ruin things but Hannah tells him no and feeds him to his pet zombie. Finally, they are in a little house and like a little family, and they sew and make a big “HELLO” for planes overhead to see (but they are pretty sure all of Europe is in lockdown so they are gonna be stuck there a while).

The “what if” alternative ending is just the most realistic ending if Murph-dawg really got shot point blank in the torso during the apocalypse. Homeboy dies. Sorry. The “Radical Alternative Ending” was just as it said, radical. They had an idea that perhaps the cure could be a full body blood transfusion but realized that this couldn’t work in the world they created where a single drop of blood in the eye could infect you in 20 seconds. Cillian ends up dead but Frank lives in the radical scenario. It was fascinating to see them storyboarding.

[crusade-crisis]

((They are at least self-aware))

[violetnightblaze]

I've started to write again and have returned to an old project! So, as a motivator for me, here's a sneak peek into the project I'm working on for you.

This is a work-in-progress piece so some of this may change in the future, but for now enjoy!

Resistance

Chapter 1



Anger and a desire for chaos rise in him as he stares at a glinting green gem. He tries to shake them off, but they continue to boil up inside. He flies home to try and get the feelings to disperse. Gliding into the rock that houses his clubhouse and safety net, he lands on his knees in front of the wall of blue sparkling vines and plants.

“Don’t start a resistance!”

“Don’t start a resistance!”

“Don’t start a resistance!”

Those four words are all that chant in his head and come out in whispers from his mouth, but they have no effect on his urge to revolt. He grabs his head as he tries to rid himself of the desire to revolt coursing through his body. He shouts as the vines wrap around him and do nothing to siphon the feelings away. He jumps up, tearing the attached vines from the ground, and flies out of the rock. The torn vines dangle from his limbs and body as he dives toward his friend’s base, shouting at him.

“No! Scar help! Scar! Scar, Scar, Scar. Scar! Scar! SCAR!” he shouts as he dives and skids to a stop near his friend.

“Yes, hello?” Scar replies, surprised.

“I- Stop me starting a resistance. Stop me starting a resistance,” he says.

“Well, hold on here,” Scar says, pulling something out of his inventory.

“I’m gonna-”

“Take a seat. Take a seat. Take a load off,” Scar says as he places two seats.

“Scar, I’m gonna start a resistance. Scar, if you don’t do something right now, I’m gonna start a resistance,” he states seriously, clapping his hands to emphasize his point.

“You’re gonna be just like Impulse, Hot Guy!” Scar says, pulling out his special bow and shooting at him.

“Do it! DO IT!” he shouts at him.

“Hot Guy, revenge! Why are you so strong?” Scar says as he struggles to kill him.

The final killing shot finally lands. He respawns in his base. And he sighs in relief.

“Crisis averted,” Grian says happily as the vines that were once dangling loosely from him now cling tightly and seep through his clothes and into his skin.

[colemonroe]

WHERE: Sons of Silence Clubhouse WITH: @chloeandersonx

“Goddamnit,” Cole cursed underneath his breath as he searched through the cupboards at the clubhouse. He wasn’t searching for a miracle or a million dollars– he just wanted some sugar to go in his coffee. He’d always dumped a pound of it into any cup he poured for himself and so not being able to find the sugar now? It was a fucking crisis, and it showed in the way he went from cabinet to cabinet, searching them backwards and forwards only to come up empty. Muttering yet another curse, he stepped out from the clubhouse’s kitchen and into the main room, “Chloe– ya seen the sugar?” He called from across the room, hoping that she had some sort of idea as to where the fucking container had gone. Why was it so hard for people just to put shit back where it belonged? Swallowing his annoyance, he resumed his search, knowing that in a clubhouse full of bikers, the sugar could be literally anywhere. “Is someone fuckin’ holdin’ it hostage at this point?” He wondered aloud, but he was curious to see if Chloe had any insight here.

[mamawasatesttube]

hi i just wanna say that i read ur fic straight on til morning and it was my first fic i read where kon was a major character and it made me realize i relate to him SO hard like ohmygod i am him and he is me. and then the fic gave me the same damn crisis hes having over himself 💀💀💀 this is all praise tho its a fucking phenomenal fic and im rereading it rn cuz its so good. he is my favorite character ever now i think

YEEEESSSSSS i love to hear this!!!!! LOVE to know that you have accepted love and enthusiasm for kon-el into your heart!!! come join me in the clubhouse we are baking cookies and watching star trek and kicking our feet and giggling every time spock sasses kirk ♥

but that aside thank you very much, im glad to hear it!!! not for you having a crisis (ough) but for the praise :)

[lady-ella]

Bishop Losa x reader

Credits to the owner of the GIF

English is not my first language, so there could be some mistakes :))

Warnings: any, just some swearing

Chapter one

You couldn’t see anything, were you dead? It wouldn’t be so bad, you lost everything maybe you could finally be in peace.

Your head hurted a lot, you could hear some distant voices, where were you? Did they find you again? Or you will wake up in hell? Finally you could open your eyes, you could feel someone holding your hand, you looked in that direction and you couldn’t see who it was because you didn’t have your glasses. But you could tell that he was a mid-age man, he was talking to… a doctor. You were just in hospital, so they found you, but did they found them? “Did you find them?” Your voice was rough for your lack of speaking,for who knows how long. They both looked at you. The man got up from the chair, “Who?” He was puzzled. “My mum… and my dog… Did you find them?” Tears were at the corners of your eyes. “No. We didn’t know, we thought that you were alone…” How could they know, you were the only one in that van, without counting the driver and his ‘bestie’.

You told them what had happened, you described the cantine where you were, so maybe they could find them, but unfortunately you couldn’t without having a crisis, so they called the psychologist of the hospital. After the interrogatory, he said that he wanted you to be moved to the psychiatrist area. He said that you were suffering of post traumatic stress, well actually it wasn’t the only thing. They gave you some pills for sleeping and when it would happen to have another crisis they would give you a different medicine.

One day the man that was holding you, came back to see how you were doing. You found out that he was a sergeant of the intelligence unit, he’s name was Charlie Davidson, and he was the one that found you on the street and helped you. “We found the bodies of two of the aggressors, we think that the third one killed them because it’s their fault if you could escape. And doctor Smith said that you will be dismissed soon.” “Oh… it’s a great idea, I think…” You looked at him and he immediately understood what you wanted to asked him, “ I’m sorry, but you’re still a minor, so your father has all rights to take you with him” “BUT HE IS THE REASON THAT ALL THIS SHIT HAPPENED” You screamed, it’s his fault that your mum died, it’s his fault that your dog died, IT’S his FAULT that you got hurt. AGAIN! “ Please… I don’t want to go with him please, I’ve already told you, I can’t leave with him, I’d prefer die, and maybe I will be happy with them” your voiced cracked, you were going to cry, but you didn’t want to, you took a deep breath and calmed your self. “ I won’t.” “What?” He landed you a passport, you opened it and inside there was an ID too, but on them there wasn’t your name. “I have a friend in Santo Padre. You will pretend to be his daughter, and you will live with him.” If your body wasn’t still so sore you would have got up and hug him as you’ve never done before. “But I have to warn you about something.” “What is it?” “He’s the presidente of a motorcycle club, the Mayans” “And what is the problem?” “They work for the Galindo’s charter. They transport the drug to the clients. I’m telling you this, because I don’t want you to be scared. I’m not saying that’s the safest place, but I’m sure that you’ll like it after all.” “And me, the real me, what will happen to her?” “We’ll fake your death. So you’re dad will have another body on his conscience.” You laughed a bit, “He’ll never learn. I know him, he’s immature, and doesn’t understand a shit, I would be surprised if he cried”

So this is why you’re here on a bus going to Santo Padre. You had a flight from Chicago to San Diego, and now you’ll have other five hours on this cracked bus.

When you arrived, you asked some indications to find the clubhouse. While you were walking down the street, you were feeling as someone was watching you. You turned around and there was a hooded man walking behind you, he was the same on the bus, the same person that tried to touch your ass. So, what would you do if someone was walking behind you, looking at you? Well, for you there was only one solution. Run. So you ran and ran, your knees were hurting, you weren’t used to run before, and now with your conditions, it was insane. You were still running when at your left you saw some motorbikes, so you stopped abruptly and turned immediately left. You entered the gate and you opened the door and you leaned on it. You were panting, you were going to faint for sure. A Spanish guy arrived from your left, “Everything is okay?” You jumped a bit, “Yes… May I have a glass of water please?” “Umm, sure” You went to the bar, he landed you the glass and you drank it all. “Excuse me, but where can I find Bishop Losa?” “He’s in the templo with the others” He pointed to a glass door “Thanks” You approached the door and you were going to open it but he stopped you “No. Wait.” With your hand still on the door you turned to him “You can’t enter, they’re in the middle of a meeting.” The door opened and a lot of people came out of the room. They were tall and with many tattoos. One looked at you and he smirked, but you looked away, and you saw that in the room was still a man, he was looking at you intensely and a chill hitted you. (Before exiting the hospital you got your glasses back so now you can see something . )“Enter, close the door behind you and sit” You gulped and you did what he told me. On his kute you read ‘presidente’ so he’s definitely him. He lightened a cigaret “Do you want one?” “No, I don’t smoke” “ I’m Bishop, but I think that you’ve already understood that.” “Yes, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” You smiled and he bowed his head as a response. “How was the flight?” “Hmm… good, I mean I don’t like flights but it was quite good.” While you were talking he would look at you and that made goosebumps all over your body, you shouldn’t react like this, it passed only a month since the disaster, you were still in therapy, and the doctor said to take your meds for at least a month. “What are you thinking about?” He snapped you out of your thoughts, you didn’t realise that you were staring in to the void. He looked at you like he knew well what you were thinking. “ Nothing, I’m just tired.” In fact, after that you yawned. He laughed. “Well, how does it sounds if I take you home little one?” ‘Little one’ no one ever called you like that, and it hit you really hard. “It sound as a great idea” and you smiled at him. One other ‘problem’ that you had was social anxiety, so talking to strangers it’s not so easy for ones like you. He got up from his throne and he was in front of you, you got up too, but your knees gave up and you fall but he took you with only one arm that was on your waist embracing you. One of your hands on his shoulder and the other on the chair. You turned your head and your faces were only centimetres apart, you could feel his breath on your face. Your throat was dry, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. It only lasted a few seconds but it seemed like an eternity. You looked him in his eyes and… “Are you okay?” “Yes, as I told you before I’m tired so…” “Got it.” You walked to the door together his hand still on your waist. “Brothers. I want you to meet my daughter Y/N Losa.” You wanted to sleep, the time zone was hitting you, but instead you had to smile and shake the hands off ALL of them. A torture.

You arrived home, ‘what a relief’ you thought. You got inside. It was pretty cosy, you liked it. You two went up the stairs. He opened the door and in front of you there was a king side bed. At your left there was another door, you supposed it was the bathroom and on the opposite side the wardrobe. “You’ll sleep here.” You frowned, you exited the room, there weren’t any other rooms, where will he sleep? “I’ll sleep on the couch. I can tell you that’s kinda comfy” He was smirking, so your mind went to some scenarios that you shouldn’t think about. You shaked your head. “Are you sure that is okay? I can sleep on the couch. I don’t want to steal your bed” “Haha, don’t worry little one. I would never let a lady sleep on my couch. Maybe there are some exception, but you aren’t in those. I left you some clothes to wear as a pyjamas in the bathroom. Goodnight querida.” And he kissed your forehead and he left. “Goodnight Bishop.” He turned his head and smiled at me. Querida… it sounds as a nice thing, but you didn’t know Spanish and you didn’t have a phone to search on it, so you didn’t know what he told you.

You took a bath, you changed your clothes with those that he gave it to you. It was a black t-shirt with the Mayan’s logo, and for the lower half he gave you his… boxer. Well, what can you say, you turned red as a tomato, but in the end you wore them. You went to sleep. You were so tired that you didn’t take the pill, but you should have took it.

In the middle of the night you started to pant and to lay around in bed. “Mum… Take me, not her me, kill me… please…Please!” You woke up in shock the memories of that night rushing into your mind. You got up to take a glass of water in the kitchen. You went down the stairs, but saw him laying on the couch with only a t-shirt on and his boxer, and the thought of a glass of water wasn’t important anymore. Something else came up to your mind, you could have asked him if he would like to make you some company until you could sleep again. You gulped and you approached him. “Bishop…” “Hmm.” “Are you awake?” “Well, now I am. Is everything alright?” You took a deep breath, “I can’t sleep…” you couldn’t see him in the darkness but you felt his stare, and than with nonchalance he just asked you: “Do you want me to sleep with you little one?”

Fuck.

[sheerfreesia007]

Finding Love In Legacy Oaks pt. 26

Title: Finding Love In Legacy Oaks pt. 26

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x OFC!

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 1,208

Warnings: Fighting, Cynthia

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Gif Credit: @uuuhshiny

Jack begins to run as he hears Bunny’s terrified scream. He can see her and Esme being manhandled into a large black dark tinted SUV. Absolute fear is coursing through him as he tries to reach the two of them before the door of the SUV is slammed shut. Jack can hear footsteps behind him running as well but he doesn’t have time to worry about them as he sees Bunny try to fight her way out of the hold of the large thug who had her. A chill races down his spine as he watches the man pull out a large syringe and jab it into her neck as her body falls limp into his arms. He hurriedly shoves her into the back of the SUV and Jack can hear Esme screaming just as the door closes behind the man.

Jack is only seconds late to the SUV as it speeds off from the back parking lot. He stares fixedly at the license plate, he then pulls his phone out and types out the license plate so that he can relay it to Ginger as soon as he can get a moment. He hears the heavy footsteps again and turns to see Jeremy rushing up to him with wide eyes as he turns his head quickly to the disappearing SUV.

“Who the fuck was that? And why are they after Esme and Bunny?” Jeremy asks panting only slightly as he begins to pace in front of Jack.

“I don’t know but they’ve kidnapped both of them.” Jack says just as the Sergeant, who came with the deputies to arrest Tim, rushes up to them. 

“Did you get the plate?” asks the Sergeant and Jack shakes his head with a frown on his face.

“All I could think about was my little girl and girlfriend in that SUV.” Jack said, shaking his head. The Sergeant nods his head as he begins to key up on his radio giving the description of the SUV so that other deputies can be on the lookout for it. Jack can feel Jeremy staring at him, he knows that Jeremy doubts what he’s saying to the Sergeant but he hopes that Jeremy stays quiet so as not to tip off the Sergeant.

“Son, do you have any enemies that would want to kidnap your daughter and girlfriend?” Asked the Sergeant and Jack shook his head and saw as Jeremy turned to watch him with a slight furrow to his brow. With everything that had gone on with Bunny, Jeremy probably knows all of it and has some theories himself but Jack’s hoping that he’ll be able to brush the police to the side and just make a call into Headquarters. “We’ll need you to come down to the station, the two of you to take statements.”

“Of course.” Jack said. Jeremy nodded his head in agreement before looking to Jack for guidance. Just as Jack was going to speak up again a loud shriek was heard and Jack saw Cynthia storming over to him with an angry look on her face.

“Oh boy, here we go.” Jeremy said derisively and Jack nearly snorted at his words while Cynthia still came barging up to them.

“How dare you!” she shouted and Jack looked at her uninterestedly as she came to a final stop in from him stomping her feet. Jack notices the deputies struggling with Tim back at their cruisers and the Sergeant begins to rush over to them to help. “I’m glad your daughter and Bunny got kidnapped! They deserve it! After all the issues they caused me! They deserve to be kidnapped! I hope they never come back and then you’ll finally have to come crawling to me to console you!” Cynthia shouted and ranted in front of Jack.

Jack stared at Cynthia coldly as his brain shut down after listening to her words. He couldn’t believe that she was still stuck on having a relationship with him while he was going through a crisis of his daughter being kidnapped! Jack could see the others from inside the clubhouse all coming out to see what all the screaming was about. They were all lining up along the sidewalk, most staring at Tim struggling with the deputies but there were quite a few watching Cynthia and Jack.

Cynthia moved to grab ahold of his arm and Jack flinched back so visibly that the people on the sidewalk all gasped. Cynthia stared at Jack with bewildered eyes before her lips twisted into an ugly pout and she began screaming again.

“Just let this happen Jack! We are meant to be together! Why don’t you understand that?!” She shouted angrily at him as tears coursed down her face. “You are supposed to be with me, not Bunny!” Jack nearly howled with laughter as he watched Cynthia begin to stomp her feet like a toddler not getting their way. She looked like she had lost her mind with her hair all messed up and sticking up everywhere, her makeup running down her face from all her crying, and her eyes were wide and he could see the whites of them as she screamed in his face. Jack stepped back further and Cynthia shrieked yet again. “You are supposed to be mine!” she screamed loudly.

“I would never be with someone like you, who disrespects her marriage and her husband by cheating. You are a cruel, manipulative, disgusting woman and I wouldn’t give you the time of day if you hadn’t been in the position on the HOA you had been.” Jack said calmly to her and Cynthia seethed as she glared at him. She suddenly screamed loudly and lunged at him but was stopped by the deputies who had come over to guide her back to their police vehicles. Cynthia was a screaming mess as the deputies forcibly dragged her back towards their patrol cars and all the rest of the community watched in shocked silence as she was dragged by the deputies. She was almost too loud for Jack to here anything else.

Just then there was a lot of shouting from behind them and Jack focused his eyes on the deputies back by the patrol cars and Tim to watch as Tim broke free from them and began running in the opposite direction of them all.

“You’ll never find her asshole! Kingpin’s gonna take real good care of her!” shouted Tim over his shoulder as he ran as quickly as he possibly could away from the chasing deputies. 

Jack’s world came instantly crashing down around him. Kingpin had Esme and Bunny. All of Jack’s nightmares were coming true and he was steps behind the mob boss. Whipping out his phone Jack dialed into headquarters and demanded to be connected to Champagne.

“Whiskey what’s going on? Normally when you’re supposed to be laying low you don’t call into headquarters.” Champagne greeted him jovially.

“Kingpin has Esme and Bunny.” Jack said in a rush and silence met him in response.

“How long ago were they taking and which way was the car going?” Champagne asked seriously and Jack instantly felt relief flood him as he knew Kingsman would help him get back both of his girls.